I was 14. Winter '84. My Dad took my brother and I up to his parents house for a holiday get together. There was a Seahawk playoff game against the Miami Dolphins, and the ’Hawks pulled off the upset against Dan Marino’s team. After the game most of the family decided to go for a hike. There was about 6 to 10 inches of snow on the ground and it was a winter wonderland. I believe the participates were: My Dad, Mark, Uncle Bob, Jason, Grandpa Rice, Carl, Aunt Vicki, Lynn, and Lisa. I don’t remember Grandma and Treva ever going past the garden or barn. The plan was just to go to the gas line but I think the older men had Elk on their mind. Grandpa Rice liked to walk the land often, if not every day. He was born in the house he owned. The forty acre plot was a parent to him and he loved to be close. The land was situated on the East slope of the Cowlitz River valley-or I-5 since it ran parallel at this location-north of Kelso, Washington We all got ready in the laundry room-was it called something else?-where there were rubber boots our coats and a rack full of rifles. Grandpa was the only one that would take a rifle; he did not go past the barn without one. While the rest of us did not carry a weapon we still had skills passed on from our family that I like to call “The way of the land” like controlling your balance in the snow by short steps, be as quiet as possible with the techniques of experience passed down by the generations, absolutely no yelling and minimize whispering, avoid physical noises, and movements such as stepping on branches and touching the ones on the trees. So the adventure embarked from the house, we walked past the cows in the field and I was thinking that the usual mine field of cow pies were buried by white camouflage and we would be unable to avoid them, so who knew what we were stepping in; oh well poop happens. We skirted around the woods nearest to the barn into another open field that would empty us on to a road leading to the gas line. On the way the group separated into two groups Alpha and Beta people with me walking in the middle. The Alpha group were experts in “The way of the land”, the Betas were novices. I was an Alpha but felt that I had to be the bridge between the two groups so they would not get lost or fall behind. We arrived at the gas line which was a border to Grandpa’s property and of course we crossed it and began walking the road that was perpendicular to the gas line beyond our familiar land. We came to a sloping hill on our left that was full of stumps, underbrush, other foliage, and elk. There was a herd within the northwest jungle of greenery. An independent hot smoke cloud of breathe was emanating from each beast which I remember being visually striking. The group became very excited, but we knew that we should not show it, and we all became statues controlling our breathing as not to make a sound or movement. Be part of the environment; the wind, a tree, a cowpie, or invisible. After several minutes of admiring the majestic beasts the next step was to get a much closer look. It was understood that Grandpa would lead and you were expected to be slow and ghostly, or suffer the stern look and attitude of the great hunter (Grandpa). We advanced like snails. I was close to my dad and he pointed, in the direction indicated was a glorious buck with a huge rack, I couldn’t even count the points. I had never seen an animal of this kind; it was the king of the forest. Suddenly the herd became aware of us, and there was an intense silent standoff. Somebody laughed; one of the girls realized the absurdity of the situation and emotions escaped her mouth. The herd started to slowly retreat towards the tree line. The giant racked elk faced us and covered the herds retreat. My dad started to walk towards the giant and my first thought was “What the hell is he doing?”. I saw a twinkle in his eye and a smile of excitement written all over his face. The giant edged towards the tree line; my dad mirrored the giant. The giant entered the jungle at a slow jog; my dad jogged after, I ran after him and followed stealthily while using his back as a target. The pace picked up soon after that and we ran for what seemed like an hour but was actually five minutes. That old man could run, I was surprised and proud. I was sweating under my winter clothes and my feet hurt inside my rubber boots “The Way” had been tossed to the side in the effort to stay close to the giant. Seconds after the previous five minutes the only thing that we could see of the giant was its hind quarters and then only its rising hot misty cloud of breath. As air escaped out of my dad he slowed to a fast walk and noticed for the first time that I was behind him, he threw me a loving smile. He whispered “Cool huh?” and I responded with a “Very” knowing that he was referring to the whole experience. The three of us were bonded on this trail with the leaders’ breath still ahead of us providing us with a sign to follow. And we did for a good twenty minutes taking the time to admire the giants tracks, the thick snow falling from the sky and trees, and the puffy white environment surrounding us. All the landmarks of the forest were unfamiliar to my dad because he said “You know that I have no idea where we are, right?” I responded with a “Really”, because I was not used to him or any of the men for that matter admitting that they were lost in these woods. We were now walking and talking not caring that we were doing so, still following but the sight of breath was faint in front of us, and then it started to get closer. We shot back into stealth mode and soon were able to see the source of the hot steam cloud just standing there looking at us and then the giant turned and ran off. We did not have the energy to follow as we no longer could see his breath. He was gone. As we stood there we now had permission to speak to each other with more volume and words. We both expressed how awesome that chase had been and then we realized we were cold and we turned and walked the way we came. On the journey back, yeah we found our way back with no problem because the tracks and other signs were easy to see in the snow, we continued to talk, and talk, and creating breath, not caring what saw or heard us. “That was a great Seahawk game, huh?” “Yes it was, yes it was son.” A lot of things were not said verbally but that was part of “The Way”.
Coda: A week later, we worked a flea market (My dad was an antique dealer) and I was unable to see the AFC championship game against the Raiders. The Seahawks lost so I was spared some anger and frustration by not seeing it, and wow, we made it to one game away from the super bowl. The super bowl was great, I watched it with dad and we admired Marcus Allens run to victory. A few weeks later my dad passed away (Ouch!). I love my dad-forever fourteen (Roger).
P.S. I have been blessed with wonderful parents and family members.
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